


Being Weird: A Bruno & Boots Christmas Story

by calathea



Category: Macdonald Hall - Korman
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 01:58:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calathea/pseuds/calathea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boots thinks he and Bruno might be weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being Weird: A Bruno & Boots Christmas Story

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by lynnmonster

A group of guys from Dormitory 3 had plans to go out to buy Christmas presents for their friends and family that Saturday. Boots, deprived of his usual Saturday pleasures of swimming (the pool was closed for cleaning) and hanging out with Bruno for the day (he was locked in their room writing a long overdue essay on the Battle of the Bulge), had decided to go too, even though he normally considered the mall to be a place of torture. He had rapidly come to regret this as he and his dorm-mates thrashed their way down the highway in Wilbur's old beater of a car, music on loud enough to shake flakes of rust down onto Boots's head. Boots was crushed in the back seat between Chris Talbot, who smelled of turpentine, and Sidney, who smelled of nothing Boots wanted to put a name to. About ninety percent of the front seat was occupied by Wilbur, with Elmer squeezed into the remaining space, occasionally squeaking in fear as Wilbur careered wildly along the road. Arriving at the mall, crowded as it was with other shoppers, was a great relief for all concerned.

Once through the doors, the boys split up, after agreeing to meet up again in an hour. Boots went first to the drug store to pick up a few necessities and then began to wander the mall, searching for something for Bruno.

He and Bruno had always exchanged Christmas gifts. The very first year, when they had been rooming together for only a few months, Boots had almost been wrong-footed by Bruno's offering of a badly wrapped package. Inside was a fabric pencil case, stitched with the word BOOTS – the name Bruno had given him – and some bookplates that proclaimed "Property of Boots O'Neal". Boots, recovering quickly, grabbed the very last of his allowance, which he had been saving for candy for the car ride home, and ran off to the school store where he bought Bruno enough butter tarts to see him through the train journey back in to the US. They had exchanged gifts every year since. This year, though, Boots was completely unable to think of anything to get Bruno, and worse, Bruno had told him smugly that he already _had_ Boots's present.

Boots looked in a store window, but it seemed to be full of nothing but suits and ties. That brought back nothing but bad memories – of Wizzle, of The Committee, of the masking tape down the middle of the room. That year, though, there had still been a gift, left on his bed without a word. Boots carried the compass he had unwrapped from the wrinkled paper whenever he went hiking or skiing.

Sidney ambled up to Boots as he stood contemplating the contents of yet another window, this time full of chocolates. "I didn't think Bruno liked chocolate," said Sidney, tripping over his shoelaces and almost falling on a small child in a pushchair.

Boots shook his head. "No, he doesn't really." He started to move away from the window. "I just don't know what to get him. What are you getting Larry?"

Sidney blinked. "Uh. I wasn't planning to get him anything. He can have some of the beer my brother sent."

Boots looked at him. "Well, what are you getting your brother?"

Sidney looked even more confused. "Beer, of course."

Boots sighed. Sidney muttered something about finding a gift for his mother, and walked away.

Similar conversations with Chris and Wilbur, who he met counting their money outside the arcade, produced similar results. They gazed at him blankly, and Chris contributed nothing except, "We're not like you and Bruno. We don't do gifts."

Pondering this last remark, Boots found himself staring fixedly at a window display full of power tools while a restless sea of shoppers flowed around him. More baubles shimmered and shook above him in the warm blast of air from the mall heating system. The stores nearest him were all playing different festive songs, and the sound reached him as a confused cacophony of sleighs and reindeer and snowmen and the distant ho-ho-ho of the department store Santa.

He and Bruno _were_ different. Unusual. Maybe even _weird_. Or maybe it was just Boots who was all of those things. Either way, there was something _strange_ about them, and the more Boots thought about it, the more it seemed everyone knew this but him.

The hour was up, and Boots was forced to return to the Hall still empty-handed. He was preoccupied all the way home, and, though he sat in the front seat, he did not flinch once during the drive, earning him the undeserved respect of his fellow passengers.

* * * * * * * * * 

Arriving back at the Hall, Boots was distracted by having to support a white-faced Elmer, still hyperventilating after the near miss with the eighteen-wheeler, back to his room. Finally, Boots pushed open the door to his own room and threw himself face down on his bed.

"I hate shopping," he informed Bruno, who was lying on his back in the middle of the floor.

"I know." Bruno grinned at him. "Did you get me a Christmas present?"

Boots moaned. "Did you get your essay done?" he asked, in retaliation.

"Yeah. Sort of. I borrowed that essay you wrote about the Battle of the Somme and changed a few key words."

"Bruno!" Boots lifted his head from the bed and stared at his best friend.

"What? That was a great essay. You got an A+!"

"But it was about a battle that happened almost 30 years earlier, in a different country, between different people, in a different _war_!"

"And those were the key words I changed. Are you saying my essay won't be as good?" Bruno pouted.

Boots spluttered and started to answer before he noticed the gleam in Bruno's eye. "You didn't really, did you?"

Bruno smirked. "Nah. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble. Besides, I kind of need this grade."

Boots grinned and rolled over onto his side, facing into the room. This was what Saturdays were supposed to be like: kidding around with Bruno in their room, not battling through shoppers and having unsettling thoughts.

Bruno sat up, turned around and leaned his back up against Boots's bed. Boots found himself looking closely at the way Bruno's dense dark hair grew from his skull. He reached out a finger to touch it, and then stopped.

"Bruno." Boots said, surprised to find his voice sounded hoarse.

Bruno sounded sleepy. "Mmm?"

"Are we weird?"

Bruno looked over his shoulder at Boots, his expression a little startled. "Weird? No, I don't think so. I mean, _you_ can be strange sometimes," Bruno's even white teeth gleamed as he grinned, "but no, we're not weird. Why?"

Boots remained silent, ridiculously reassured by Bruno's comment.

"Boots?" Bruno asked, reaching up to touch his hand.

"Oh, just something Chris said." Boots explained.

"Well, _Chris_" said Bruno, dismissively. "So, will you read my essay for me? I have to hand it in by seven."

Boots laughed, and rolled over again to lie face down. "You can read it to me. Don't forget to do the voices!"

* * * * * * * * *

A couple of days later, while Bruno was serving detention for a crime he claimed not to have committed, Boots headed over to see Cathy and Diane to see if they had any ideas for what he could get Bruno for Christmas. He rarely went alone to see the girls, as, if he were honest with himself, they were scary people.

He climbed up the drainpipe and peeped through the window. Cathy and Diane were inside, their backs to him, working at their desks. He knocked on the glass, and chuckled when the noise made Cathy jump and knock her pencil case on the floor. Diane let him in while Cathy picked up her scattered belongings and muttered about annoying boys.

Diane looked out the window. "Where's Bruno?" she asked, "I can't see him anywhere. If he's about to leap out of somewhere at me, I will throw a shoe at him, I swear." She slipped off her right shoe and hefted it warningly, frowning at Boots.

"Bruno is in detention over at the Hall," Boots said. "You can put your shoe back on."

Diane looked at him with an unreadable expression. Cathy stood up from where she had been half-crawling under her bed to retrieve a pencil sharpener. "You came here without Bruno?" she asked, incredulously.

"Uh. Yeah." Boots felt increasingly uncomfortable. "Is that not OK?"

The girls exchanged glances. "Sure. We just usually see you guys together. Is there…" Diane began.

"Have you two fought again?" Cathy interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, you two are worse than my sister and her boyfriend. Together, apart, together again."

Boots felt his jaw slacken. "Like your sister and her _boyfriend_? Bruno is _not_ my boyfriend!"

Cathy eyed him. "I didn't say he was. Though, you know, he might as well be. You guys spend all your time together, and you never seem to date, though I know at least a dozen girls in this school who would go out with you if you asked, unlikely as it seems."

Boots continued to stare at her. "There are girls who would go out with me?" he asked. "Who?"

Diane shook her head. "That's not important right now. Did you and Bruno fight?"

"No, we didn't fight. Bruno has detention. What do you mean there are a dozen girls who would go out with me?"

Cathy sighed dramatically. "Oh, who cares about the deluded people who think you're cute. I want to know what's up with you and Bruno that you're here on your own."

Boots sat down on Diane's bed with a thump. "People think I'm cute?"

"Focus, Boots! Tell us about Bruno."

Boots blinked. "I keep telling you, Bruno is fine. He's in detention for inciting a food fight. I came over to ask you what I should get him for Christmas. End of story. Now tell me about the people who think I'm cute."

Diane ignored him and turned to Cathy. "When is the last time we saw one of them without the other?"

Cathy seemed to consider the question. "At least a year ago." She looked over at Boots. "You guys are weird, you know."

Boots froze, another question about his anonymous admirers on his lips. "We're _weird_?" he asked, his voice squeaking.

Cathy looked at him seriously. "Surely this can't be news to you."

Bruno stood up hurriedly. "We're not weird. We're just friends. We're like everyone else." He marched over the window and started to climb out. Cathy and Diane followed, Diane protesting that he had only been there two minutes, Cathy with her arms crossed and a frown on her face.

He looked back up at the window when he reached the ground. Cathy was leaning out the window. "Face it, O'Neal," she yelled down to him, "You and Bruno are definitely odd. You guys probably need help."

* * * * * * * * *

The new Guidance Counselor, appointed this year when Mr, Fudge retired, was called Mr. Pfledderer. He was very young, highly enthusiastic, and apparently did not have enough to do. Boots, going in to ask hesitantly if he could have a word, was seized and dragged into the counselor's room. He had not even been certain this was a good idea in the first place, and found himself even more nervous at this effusive welcome.

"Delighted to see you, Melvin!" said Mr Pfledderer, picking a pile of brochures ("Choose a Career in the Armed Services!") off a chair. "Come in, sit down!" He dropped the Armed Services brochures on the floor with a bang, making Boots jump. "Now, don't be nervous!" he said, jovially, "College applications progressing nicely I hope?"

Boots nodded.

"Good, good." Mr Pfledderer smoothed down a thin, weedy moustache, which Boots assumed he'd grown to make him look older. "What can I do for you then?"

Boots sat down. "I think I might be… That is… I…" Boots ground to a halt. Mr Pfledderer looked at him and made what Boots supposed were meant to be encouraging noises.

"I think I might be weird," he managed, finally.

Mr Pfledderer appeared taken aback. "Weird? In what way weird?"

Boots shifted uncomfortably on his seat. "Just weird."

"OK. Why do you think you are weird?"

Boots shrugged, starting to feel embarrassed. "People keep saying it about me and Bruno."

Mr Pfledderer seemed confused. "Bruno Walton?" Boots nodded. "Well, you both seem perfectly normal to me. Do you think you two are weird?"

Bruno took a deep breath, and let his head sink on to his chest. On the floor, muscular looking men scowled at him from the cover of the Armed Services brochure.

He looked up again. "I guess other guys just don't seem to be like us. It's… different between Bruno and me."

Mr Pfledderer suddenly seemed excited. "Oh, oh! I _understand_!" Boots wondered what he understood, since Boots didn't even understand.

"I am so glad you came to see me," Mr Pfledderer was mumbling. "So reassuring to think that you young people feel you can come talk to me." He leapt up, his moustache quivering as he grinned at Boots. Turning, he tugged open a large drawer and began to gather up a little pile of leaflets. After a moment, he turned back to Boots and handed them over with a smile "Perhaps these will help?"

"'Coming Out: Telling Your Friends and Family'" Bruno read, "'Safe Sex'" The cover art of the latter pamphlet showed two guys smiling fatuously at one another.

He jumped up, alarmed. "Wait! I'm not… I mean…" but Mr. Pfledderer had already turned away and was muttering under his breath about another leaflet he thought he had.

Boots lunged for the door before Mr Pfledderer could give him anything more. "No, really, I should go. This is fine," he babbled, twisting the doorknob frantically, "I've got class now."

Out in the hall, he banged the door shut, ignoring Mr. Pfledderer's exclamation of "Melvin!" and hurried down the corridor, stuffing the pamphlets in his book-bag as he walked.

"Boots!" Bruno called from behind him, as Boots frantically pushed the last one into the front pocket, "Where've you been? I couldn't find you."

Boots, breathing a little quickly, glanced quickly down at his book-bag to make sure none of the offending literature was on show, and then looked up at Bruno as he approached. "I had to…uh… do a thing. Let's go."

* * * * * * * * * 

Anyone who knew Bruno would expect him to be a restless sleeper, constantly rolling around and tossing his blankets on the floor. Instead, it was Boots who recovered his bedclothes from the floor every morning, who slept intermittently and suffered the occasional night of insomnia, while Bruno slept peacefully through it all, barely moving or making a sound. Tonight was one of the sleepless nights. Boots lay propped up against the headboard, and watched Bruno sleep. The dark hair was ruffled, and Bruno was drooling onto his pillow.

After a while, Boots dug around in his nightstand for his book-light, a tiny clip-on device that threw a small circle of light onto the page and no further – another Christmas gift from Bruno. The lamp was clipped to _Moby Dick_, but open inside the pages were some of the leaflets given to him by the guidance counselor. He'd started with 'Safe Sex', but had found it increasingly disturbing to read the pamphlet in the presence of the very person with whom his teacher thought he was going to practice the contents. He'd therefore turned to 'Coming Out', which at least had fewer anatomical drawings.

He looked up when Bruno stirred, mumbled a little, and finally staggered out of bed towards the bathroom. Boots lay unmoving, his fingers clenched on the hardback cover of Moby Dick. After a few minutes, Bruno reappeared, his eyes still mostly closed but his feet expertly avoiding the piles of laundry and books scattered around the floor. He veered off course as he approached their beds, sitting down next to Boots's blanket covered waist.

"Reading?" Bruno asked, his voice rough with sleep. "Oughta be asleep."

Boots nodded. "In a while."

Bruno yawned hugely, exposing his back molars. "Should sleep now." He reached out suddenly, pushing Boot's fair hair off his forehead, his fingers stroking gently back towards Boots's ear. Boots caught his breath, but Bruno just stood up, moved towards his own bed and rolled himself into his normal cocoon. In a few moments, his regular breathing signalled his return to sleep. Boots turned off his light, and slid down onto his back, staring at the ceiling as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He did not sleep for a long while.

In the morning, Bruno didn't mention their midnight conversation or Boots's restless night. Boots found himself touching his hair every so often as if to recapture the ghostly memory of Bruno's fingers.

* * * * * * * * * 

He found that swimming helped clear his head after a sleepless night and a long boring day. He ploughed up and down his lane, thinking about nothing but his stroke. After a couple of miles, he pulled himself out of the pool and, dressing warmly, rushed back over to Dormitory 3.

He felt better. Perhaps he wasn't weird, he thought, rubbing at his wet hair while he walked down the corridor towards his room. Perhaps everyone _else_ was weird for thinking he and Bruno were weird.

He shoved open the door of their room and, heading straight for the bathroom, threw a casual hello to Bruno, sitting as usual in the middle of their floor. Bruno said nothing in return, did not even look up. Boots turned back to look at his best friend.

Bruno sat surrounded by the leaflets Mr Pfledderer had given to Boots. Boots felt his heart judder, and start beating faster. "Where did you… where did you get that?" he whispered. Bruno looked up and Boots took a half-step back at the anger on Bruno's face. "Were you ever going to tell me?" Bruno asked, his voice still quiet.

"Tell you what? Why have you got my stuff out?" Boots clenched his hands into fists to stop them shaking.

"About this!" Bruno picked up a couple of leaflets and shook them in Boots's direction.

Boots started to shiver. "That has nothing to do with you. I'm not even sure what it has to do with me." He moved to the bed and sat down. "I was thinking about some things, and I went to see the guidance counselor, and he gave them to me."

Bruno looked down at the leaflets. "You've been reading them though."

"Yeah."

"I remember. I saw you leaving Pfledderer's office days ago. You've been thinking about this for _days_ and you didn't tell me. God, Boots," Bruno suddenly exploded, "Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't want to tell you." he responded, starting to feel angry himself.

"Well, apparently not," Bruno said furiously, tossing the leaflets he held across the room towards Boots. "Apparently you don't want to tell me a lot of things."

Boots stood up again. "I tell you everything important. I can't believe you're mad about something like this."

Bruno stood up as well, and moved so he was toe-to-toe with Boots. "This _is_ an important thing!" he said in a muted roar, "This is a huge thing."

"Uh, guys?" A hesitant voice broke in from the door, when Boots looked over, he saw Elmer standing in the door, looking bewildered. Without looking at who it was, Bruno unleashed a full-throated yell at his unfortunate classmate: "Fuck _off_, we're having a conversation. And close the door."

The door clicked quietly behind Elmer, his expression affronted.

"Where was I?" asked Bruno, sounding slightly calmer.

Boots, however, had become more wound up during the altercation with Elmer. "You were screaming at me for not telling you something that is none of your business," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"It is so my business," said Bruno, looking calmer still.

"How is it your business?" Boots stepped away and started to pace. "I don't know what's going on. How is it your business to know that I don't know what's going on?"

Bruno crossed his arms and watched Boots traverse the room. "I'm your best friend. I'm the person who helps you figure out what is going on."

"Not this."

"Yeah, this. This especially."

Boots suddenly felt very tired. He dropped onto his bed again, and pushed his hands into his wet hair. "What do you want Bruno? You want me to tell you I'm confused? I'm confused! Happy now?"

Bruno abandoned his station in the middle of the room and sat down beside him. "What are you confused about?"

Boots laughed without humour, and kicked at a leaflet on the floor. "About_ this_, dummy, about being _weird_. One minute I was trying to buy a present for you, a Christmas present, and the next minute everyone is saying how weird we are, how we're not like other people. And how we might as well be dating. And that people like me. And that they _understand_. And you keep touching me, and I keep liking it, and I like you, and I didn't even know that girls think I'm cute."

"You still haven't bought me a Christmas present?"

"Bruno!" exclaimed Boots, exasperated.

Bruno looked crestfallen for a moment. "I bought you yours in like, July."

"Oh, who cares about the Christmas present?" Boots was about to jump up and start pacing again, when he felt a hand on his knee restraining him.

"Boots, listen to me. I bought your Christmas present in _July_. It wasn't even during school time. I was home with my parents and I was looking round the mall back home and I kept seeing things and thinking, hey, that would be a great present for Boots."

"So what?"

"So we e-mailed almost every day over the summer. So I spent the whole vacation wishing I were back here at school with you. God, Boots, if I were any more obvious, I'd be wearing a sign." Bruno looked frustrated. The hand on Boots's knee tightened. "Cathy was right. You really never notice when people like you."

Boots blinked. "Cathy? What does Cathy know?"

"Cathy told me you freaked out when she said I was your boyfriend." Bruno's hand was stroking his thigh a little now. Boots felt the warm friction, but didn't dare look down in case it stopped. "She said you're having a thing about being weird."

Boots nodded dumbly. "Well," said Bruno, "I like being weird. I like you being weird. I definitely like us being weird together. Mostly though, I just like you."

The hand on Boots's thigh continued to pet and soothe him. Bruno's shoulder pushed against his, and Boots felt himself turning towards his friend. Their first kiss tasted of chlorine from the pool. Bruno's lips on his felt dry and warm. Boots drew away, but Bruno followed, and pressed another kiss on his lips, angling his face a little for deeper contact. Boots found himself reaching up to touch Bruno's hair, slipping his fingers through the shiny dark strands by Bruno's ear.

"Still confused?" whispered Bruno.

"Yeah, I think so." Boots confessed. "I liked that though."

Bruno laughed, slinging an arm around Boots and squeezing his shoulders. "Cautious Boots, as always." He stood up, and Boots made a little protesting noise as the warmth was taken away.

"Go take a shower, then we'll go to sleep. I doubt you got a wink last night." Bruno grinned.

Boots took a shower, feeling disoriented. When he came back, the light in the room was already dimmed, the leaflets had all been picked up off the floor and Bruno had made his bed for him.

He sat on the edge of the bed and eyed Bruno, already wrapped in his blankets in his own bed a few feet away. "Why are you tired? I'm the one who was awake all night."

Bruno grinned over the edge of a blanket. "You're exhausting."

Boots grunted, and slid gratefully under the covers. He lay on his side, facing Bruno. His eyelids started to feel heavy, and he struggled to stay awake, to think about what it all meant.

"I like being weird with you," he said, finally.

Bruno's grin was huge. "Yeah, me too."

"I don't know what to get you for Christmas." Boots admitted. A little book came flying through the air to land on top of his head.

"Anything from in there would be great," said Bruno, laughing. Boots snaked a hand out from under his covers to look at the booklet. It was the Safe Sex guide. He grinned back at Bruno, wanting to laugh, but feeling too warm and sleepy to make even that effort.

Tucking the book away under his pillow, he slid deeper into his covers. Within seconds, he was asleep, dreaming of Christmas presents wrapped in silver and tinsel, of Bruno and the gifts he'd been given, and of being weird.


End file.
